Fragments:  A Man Walks Into A Bar
by Jaz22
Summary: A basement conversation follows a visit from someone they never expected.


"_Let me ask you something, Very Special Agent DiNozzo. Was there ever a time when someone _didn't_ approve of that behavior from you?" (Dr. Cranston)_

"_Ha. Not gonna happen." (Tony)_

_~0~  
_

"_We are who we are. . ." (Gibbs)_

**Fragments: Bar None**

By Jaz

'_A Man Walks Into A Bar' Episode Summary: Unable to ditch their mandatory psych evaluations (for the tenth time), Team Gibbs is shadowed by Dr. Cranston, who seems eerily familiar and has a tendency for provoking memories about a certain fallen comrade to surface. As always, it is assumed that you have seen this episode, or the following story won't make much sense.  
_

_A/N: This episode was a lovely tribute to Kate with a nice twist at the end, and it gave us wonderful insights into each of the team members. It also offered me a chance for one of those 'guarded heart' to 'guarded heart' talks between Gibbs and Tony that I so love to dabble in. The characters aren't mine and no infringement is intended. This might be a tad heavier than my normal fare. And I should probably post an OOC warning for Gibbs, who actually speaks. . . (though has anyone else noticed we seem to have a kinder, gentler Gibbs since Spider and the Fly?) _

~0~

Gibbs paused in his sanding, listening intently for the sounds he'd been waiting for all night. He glanced quickly at his watch, the orange band peeking out from under the long sleeve t-shirt he wore, noting it was already half past nine.

If DiNozzo was coming, he'd better hurry the hell up.

There'd been no plans made. There rarely were. But his gut was telling him it would only be a matter of time until his Senior Field Agent showed up at his door, a six-pack in hand and heavy thoughts on his mind as he fought to regain his equilibrium.

DiNozzo never liked shrinks.

Gibbs had known that almost from the day he'd met him, having observed Tony's reaction to the mandatory psych evaluation that had come down from their first case together, while Tony was still attached to Baltimore. As he'd gotten to know his agent better over the years, he'd learned bits and pieces about a childhood filled with one psychologist after another who attempted to figure out what was 'wrong' with a young Anthony DiNozzo Jr.; none of them smart enough to figure out he was simply a hyperactive kid desperate for attention from an absent father following the death of his mother.

Gibbs didn't think much of shrinks either.

He walked over to his workbench and grabbed an empty mason jar, filling it with a few fingers worth of bourbon. He reached for another, planning to have it waiting for DiNozzo's arrival, but hesitated. He knew Tony tended to stay away from hard liquor as a rule, not trusting himself to handle it any better than Senior had. Gibbs was of the opinion that there were some conversations that just went better with bourbon, but he realized it wasn't his choice to make. He set the jar down and returned to his wood.

When Vance had informed him that Dr. Cranston was going to be delving deeply into the minds of his MCRT, a process they'd managed to avoid for a considerable amount of time, Gibbs had known it would be hardest for Tony. Perhaps Ziva as well, since there were certainly issues in her past that had never been properly dealt with. But there was a side to Tony; one that few people even glimpsed; one that Tony protected at all costs; one that he wouldn't appreciate having examined by someone with a few fancy letters after their name. He knew Tony would balk at the prospect.

He had no idea how deeply they'd both be affected by the surprising turn of events.

He had to admit, though, he thought it had been good for them. For all three of them: himself, Tony and Rachel.

Now he just needed to make sure Tony saw it that way as well.

He'd been working another ten minutes when he finally heard the sound he'd been waiting for all night, the opening and closing of the front door. There might be a lock on it now, but it didn't mean he had to use it. He paused, listening to the sound of heavy footsteps overhead, as if they carried a great weight. Not going to be an easy night, then. Not that he'd expected it would be; in fact, he'd been mentally gearing up, preparing himself to leave aside the functional mute part of his personality for the evening and give DiNozzo what he needed. Wasn't really what he cared to do, as his ex-wives and few remaining friends would certainly attest to, but he _could _rise up to the task when the cause was worth it.

And DiNozzo was a worthy cause, even if Gibbs would never come out and say it.

The pardon Gibbs had unofficially received after the events surrounding the murder of Pedro Hernandes had come to light had changed the way he thought about a lot of things. He really hadn't believed he'd come out of that one with his career intact – he hadn't even been sure he'd make it out with his life. But he had, thanks to his team pulling around him, protecting him even from himself.

He thought maybe he could return the favor.

The footsteps paused in the area of the refrigerator, and he heard the clink of bottles before they resumed and the door at the top of the stairs opened. Tony made his way down, his days of stopping on the steps, unsure of his welcome, long since past.

Gibbs accepted the beer offered to him and took a long pull, the cool of the bottle registering on his fingertips as he waited to see which dance they would be doing tonight. With DiNozzo, one could never be sure. It could take hours to reach the intended destination in a conversation, or mere minutes depending on which way Tony wanted to play it. Gibbs was prepared for either option.

For a man who excelled in the art of meaningless conversation, DiNozzo knew how to cut to the chase when he wanted to.

Tony stared at him, and Gibbs knew he wouldn't have to wait long tonight.

"You knew?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Gibbs, assessing, calculating, searching for truth. "Who she was?"

Gibbs finished swallowing and lowered his bottle, somewhat relieved they would be jumping right in. He did his best to keep his features open and honest. "Yep."

Tony continued searching for another moment before he nodded, seeming to accept the answer at face value. He turned away, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his jacket.

Gibbs knew there was more to the question Tony wanted to ask, but it wasn't spoken aloud. He waited until Tony had settled himself on the sawhorse, leaning back against the workbench, and when the question still didn't come, he decided to prompt him. "When did you figure it out?" he prodded. He watched the internal struggle reflect on the face of his agent, knowing Tony was determining exactly how much he should reveal and what it would cost him.

The sigh as Tony came to a decision was barely noticeable. "I was down in the morgue." He cocked his head, his eyes fixed on something that was only there in his mind. "With Commander Reynolds. She found me down there, started in on me with her psychobabble. Only, it wasn't. It made sense. And it was like she knew me. It was like she was saying stuff only Kate would have said. Or maybe she was telling me what I'd always _wanted _Kate to say. Except Kate never got the chance." He fell silent, and Gibbs knew he was lost in the memory of his fallen partner, and he allowed him that time, saying nothing for several minutes.

"Anyway, that's when I knew." He seemed to visibly pull himself back to the present, taking a long draw on the beer in his hand before rolling it around between his hands. He looked up at Gibbs, his eyes veiled by dark lashes. "How about you?"

And there it was, that question he'd known was coming, one that spoke of possible betrayal, that maybe Gibbs had known all along who the good doctor really was and hadn't felt the need to share that information. Gibbs could hardly take offense at the implication. There had been too many times in their history that he had done exactly that. Not this time though, and he spoke to set the record straight.

"I didn't put it together much before you did. It was the different last name that threw me. Didn't remember Rachel's married name. But there were similarities; little gestures that reminded me of Kate. The way she would tuck her hair behind her ear, or bite her lower lip when she was lost in thought. The way she wouldn't back down when she thought she was right." Now it was his turn to wonder how much he should share with his younger colleague, but he was tired of half-truths and omissions. The episode with the Reynosa Cartel was far too fresh in his memory, and it had changed the way he handled things. Changed the way he _wanted_ to handle things.

"It was weird how many times during this case I found myself thinking of Kate. There's not a day that goes by that she doesn't cross my mind in some way," he admitted. "But it was more than that since Rachel showed up."

He knew Tony understood without further elaboration when he commented, "Yeah. I tend to avoid thinking about her as much as I can. Sometimes, though. . ."

Gibbs took a sip from his beer, feeling the liquid trail its familiar path down his throat. He was hardly in a position to judge, but he still felt the need to comment. "She deserves to be remembered."

Tony's eyes narrowed, and Gibbs knew he had inadvertently put him on the defensive.

"I never said I don't remember." His green eyes grew dark as he turned them towards the floor. "I remember everything about that day."

Gibbs held up a placating hand. "Relax, DiNozzo. I didn't mean it like that." He gave a little snort. "Though I'm sure Dr. Cranston would tell us that's not the part Kate would want us to remember." He watched as DiNozzo's gaze returned to his face. Apparently the younger man found what he was looking for, since he saw some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

"Yeah. I try to remember the good stuff too. But that day. . . I can't help it, you know? Can't help thinking there should have been something different I could have done. That maybe it should have been . . ."

Gibbs was up and off his workbench and in Tony's face so fast the younger man never saw him move. "Don't say it. Don't you even _think_ it. It should _not_ have been you, DiNozzo. You got me?" He pushed a strong finger in the center of Tony's chest to emphasize his point, his blue eyes blazing.

Tony startled for a moment before recovering. He fought to keep the surprise off his face, since Gibbs wasn't usually one for vocalizing certain things. He couldn't doubt Gibbs believed what he had said, and he felt a jolt of warmth flow through his chest before the darkness seeped back in. His voice was hesitant. "I got you, Boss." He couldn't leave it there, though. "But it shouldn't have been her either."

The anger left Gibbs' eyes as suddenly as it appeared, and for a moment he looked older than his years. He took a step back as his thoughts returned to that fateful day. "Damn straight," he agreed quietly.

They remained lost in their memories, the silence between them as comfortable as a favorite sweatshirt. Gibbs smiled to himself as he thought of the time he'd taken the two of them to the shooting range and made Kate shoot her own PDA. She'd been spitting fire at him that day, but he'd gotten his desired result – not only had they both walked away better shooters, but they'd bonded together against him, forgetting for a time their sibling-like rivalry.

"The two of you worked well together. You fit. Fought like cats and dogs, but I never had to worry whether you had each other's backs. There have been a few times with Ziva that I haven't always been sure."

Tony gave a half laugh at the thought. "Yeah, well, you and me both." He thought for a moment, and knew he needed to expand on that. "I trust Ziva. I know we've had our ups and downs, but I also know she won't leave me hanging. It's just . . ."

"She's not Kate," Gibbs finished for him.

Tony nodded.

Gibbs' curiosity got the better of him. "You and Kate ever break Rule 12?" He tried to make it seem like he wasn't that interested.

Tony laughed again, and Gibbs was pleased to hear it was genuine. "Hell, no."

"Ever think about it?" Gibbs pushed.

Tony seemed to be giving that some consideration. "Sure," he answered honestly. "She was beautiful. But she was more like a sister to me." He turned and put his now empty bottle on the bench beside him. "I'm pretty sure we never would have." He fell silent for a few moments.

"But I would have liked the chance to find out."

There was really nothing Gibbs could say to that, so he remained silent. He thought about taking advantage of his senior agent's current openness to ask the same question about Ziva, but then decided he'd really rather not know. Picking up his sanding block, he returned to his latest project, knowing DiNozzo would not be offended as Gibbs continued to work.

The younger man headed up the stairs, returning a few minutes later with two more beers. He handed one to Gibbs before resuming his position on the sawhorse. He pulled at the label where the condensation had dampened it, seemingly lost in thought again.

"You think she found what she was looking for?"

Gibbs stopped sanding and looked up at him. "Kate?"

Tony shook his head. "Rachel," he clarified.

Gibbs resumed sanding. "Pretty sure she never really got over Kate's death. Pretty sure she never will. But I think it helped her, being with people who were just as affected as she was. And I think she got some closure."

"You bring her down here?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, once again impressed by DiNozzo's ability to make intuitive leaps others would miss. "I did."

"Did it help her? Seeing the place where Ari was killed?"

Gibbs stopped sanding again, straightening up and taking a moment to study DiNozzo's face. He'd never confided in him – didn't think it was fair to Ziva, or for that matter, to Tony himself. 'Plausible deniability' were words to live by. But the truth was there in the green eyes gazing back at him. "You know," he simply stated.

"That Ziva's the one who killed Ari? Yeah. I know." The bitterness in his voice was slight, but it was there.

Gibbs shook his head, allowing some of his pride in Tony's investigative abilities to leak onto his face. "When did you figure that out?"

Tony's eyes became shuttered, and he returned his attention to the label on the bottle. "Does it matter?"

Everything about Tony's posture screamed to Gibbs '_Yes, it does!' _He knew it would be a mistake not to follow through on it, but he also knew he had to step carefully or yet another wedge could be driven between them. He finally felt like he and DiNozzo had reached an even keel in their relationship, and he didn't want to lose that. Not ever. The younger man's friendship was too important to him to allow past issues to hinder them now.

"Does to me," he said quietly. He watched Tony look up and take note of the fact that he had his boss's undivided attention, and Gibbs waited to see if his agent would share what was on his mind.

"You hand-pick your team, Gibbs," Tony said, as if no further explanation were necessary. "Nobody has ever lasted with you if you didn't want them there, and nobody has ever been there that you didn't _choose_ to be there." He stood and began to show his agitation by picking up Gibbs' various tools and examining them. "Ziva was appointed to our team by the Director. Not only did you let her stay with barely an argument, you trusted her sooner than I've ever seen you trust anybody else." The 'even me' was heard, though not spoken. "I figured there had to be a good reason why, and I have a pretty good idea what it would take for someone to prove their worth to you."

Gibbs knew Tony did have a pretty good idea; after all, he'd been trying to live by that code daily for the past decade. And he had yet to disappoint Gibbs in his efforts, though Gibbs doubted DiNozzo would see it that way.

Ducky had told him the same thing, once - that Gibbs had trusted Ziva sooner than he'd ever trusted anyone else. If the elderly medical examiner had seen that, Gibbs should have known that Tony would too.

Fortunately, he was fairly certain he could fix this one.

He walked over to the workbench, putting down the sanding block and picking up his beer as he leaned his backside against the heavy wood. "When we were on our way back from Israel," he began, knowing Tony was listening intently despite his distracted air, "after the whole mess with Rivkin. You'd already gotten on the plane when Ziva pulled me aside on the tarmac. She told me . . ." he paused, suddenly uncertain if what he was about to reveal would damage the relationship between Tony and the former Mossad officer. He knew, though, that it was a risk he'd have to take to get his own point across. "She was still hurting over losing him. She told me that she didn't feel she could work with someone she didn't trust. She suggested it would be better if one of you switched to another team." He waited while the words sunk in, hoping Tony would follow them to their logical conclusion.

Tony looked as if he were processing Gibbs' statements, but he couldn't make it all add up. He sought the other man's gaze. "She made you choose?" he asked hesitantly.

The insecurity in his agent's voice tore away Gibbs, and he felt renewed anger at anyone who had turned the carefree, open young boy that DiNozzo had undoubtedly been into the man before him who couldn't believe that anyone could see the good in him, that anyone would put him first. Now was not the time to give in to that rage however, and he stuffed it down, certain it would be there to draw upon the next time he came face to face with Tony's father.

"She did," he affirmed.

"But . . ."

Gibbs allowed a bit of impatience to show. "Which one of you came home with me on that plane, DiNozzo?"

Tony gently laid down the set of beveled chisels he'd been fiddling with, apparently no longer concerned with pretending he wasn't interested in the answer. "Why?"

"Why?" Gibbs parroted in disbelief. "Why do you think? Because you're my Senior Field Agent. Because you've always had my six, and I know without a doubt that you always will. Because nobody is as good as their job as you are." The words were flowing now, heat following in their wake as Gibbs tried once and for all to drill into DiNozzo that choosing him hadn't been a mistake. "Because you stood up for yourself and trapped Director David in the process when Vance threw you to the wolves. Because you wouldn't even have been _in _Israel facing their charges if you weren't following _my_ orders, just like you always do. Because I trust you more than _anyone_ I know. Because _you're_ the one I want on my team. Because _you're_ the one I chose all those years ago in Baltimore, and you're _still_ the one I'd choose today. Don't you get it, DiNozzo?" His frustration with Tony was growing, and he knew he had to take control of it, dial it back, or he'd only cause more damage.

He took a deep breath and continued, his words calmer than before but still carrying the same weight. "When she pushed me, I chose you, and I never regretted it, Tony. Not once. I didn't even have to stop and think about it." He stood and walked over to Tony, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I told your father this the first time I met him. I should have told you as well." He paused, looking Tony squarely in the eye. "You are the finest agent I've ever worked with. Bar none."

He saw the shock and disbelief in Tony's eyes warring with the hope that what Gibbs was saying weren't just words, that Tony could trust in them, _believe_ in them. Gibbs squeezed the younger man's shoulder briefly before turning back to the workbench, giving them both time to compose themselves. Ignoring the second bottle of beer Tony had brought him, he reached for the jar and downed it in one gulp, pouring himself another to savor. He turned and held the bottle up in invitation to DiNozzo, unsurprised when Tony shook his head.

He picked up the block and returned to sanding, anxious for something to keep his hands busy and quiet his thoughts. Words weren't his strong point. Not because he couldn't say them, as many people thought, but because he chose not to. He preferred it when people intuitively knew what was on his mind, and none were better at that than DiNozzo. Except when it involved Gibbs thinking positively about the man himself. He allowed them both several long minutes of silence, broken only by the sound of sandpaper on wood, before he returned to the reason he suspected DiNozzo had sought out his counsel tonight.

"Why were you down in the morgue, Tony?"

DiNozzo looked at him blankly, obviously not following his train of thought.

"When Rachel found you. You said you were down there with Commander Reynolds. Why?" he asked again, knowing he'd hit a sore point when Tony blanched.

"I . . ." Tony faltered.

Gibbs simply stared at him, expecting an answer and prepared to wait for it as long as necessary.

"I was thinking about him. Why he did what he did," DiNozzo answered baldly.

"You think you know?"

Tony cocked his head. "You think you don't?"

Gibbs snorted. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I've got it figured out. Guy gives his whole life for the job. When that ends, what's he got left? That's what you think, right?"

Tony's face became serious. "Pretty much, yeah."

Gibbs nodded. "You're wrong, you know."

"You don't think that's why he shot himself?"

"No, I think that's exactly why he shot himself. When I said you're wrong, I meant about thinking you're like him. You're not."

Tony grabbed his beer off the bench and started pacing, absently smoothing his hair with his free hand. "Oh, I'd say I'm exactly like him," he confided. "I'm forty-two years old, Boss, and all I've got is this job. I'm good at it, maybe. But that's not enough. Not really. No wife. No kids. No family. Not even a damn dog. The only serious relationship I've ever had was a sham. So when this is all over, when the job is done and I'm forced to call it a day, what exactly do I have to go home to?"

Gibbs thought long and hard before he finally spoke. "Don't know if I have an answer to that, Tony." He stopped, waiting once again until he was certain he had the other man's full attention. "But I'll be sure and let you know when I get there."

He watched the light go on in Tony's head and knew the exact moment the other man put it together, that this was a road they were both traveling, and that Gibbs would reach that particular destination first.

"You're not like _him_," Gibbs repeated. "You're like _me_. And if _I_ haven't eaten my damn gun yet, I can guarantee you that _you_ won't either." He knew that Tony understood him, knew that Tony was aware of those dark days after Shannon and Kelly's death when Gibbs spent hours simply holding the weapon in his hand, wondering if he'd ever use it. And he knew that Tony was strong enough not to let that happen to either one of them.

"You've got time. You can still find someone, Tony, so don't give up on that. But even if you don't, you've got family. Maybe not like other people's families, but they're still family. And there's nothing wrong with giving your all to your job. Not when it brings the results that ours does. What we do matters. What _you _do matters. Don't ever tell yourself it doesn't."

"Family, huh?" Tony questioned.

"Yeah. Family." Gibbs brought the conversation back around full circle. "You know, I told Rachel that you don't ever get over something like losing Kate. You just move on. I suspect the same is true for this. When our time comes, we'll move on. But that doesn't mean we'll be alone. And it doesn't mean we'll have nothing left. Just means we'll have to work with what we have. I've done it before. I know you can too, got it?"

"Gotcha, Boss." Tony looked as if he was still digesting everything, and that was okay. Gibbs knew this was a conversation that would take time to mull over and examine; he had given Tony plenty to think about tonight. That had been his intention all along.

There was silence again, and he figured it wouldn't be too much longer before DiNozzo called it a night. Hopefully he had gotten what he came for.

Tony picked up his nearly empty beer and held it loosely, staring blankly into space. "I still miss her, you know?" he said so quietly Gibbs almost missed it.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know." He held up his jar in a toast. "To Kate."

Tony raised his bottle until the neck touched Gibbs' jar.

"To Kate."


End file.
